The Cry of a Dragon
by Moondragon
Summary: The Boy Who Lived' is dead. The wizarding world is joined together in grief. But not everybody is allowed to grieve openly... HPDM Slash.


Warnings: Mild-SLASH, nothing graphical. Somewhat angsty, but I think it's more sad and melancholic. Character death!   
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K.Rowling and Warner Bros, and are used without permit.  
Summary: 'The Boy Who Lived' is dead. The Wizarding world is joined together in grief for their hero, but not everybody is allowed to grieve openly...

First posted: 28.04.01. Rewritten and reposted: 21.11.05

New A.N: This was my first ever try at writing a slash story or any kind of romance at all. It has gotten an amazing amount of feedback, far more then I thought this little story could get. However, when I reread it a while ago I realized that there are several little things I'm not too happy with, so I decided to rewrite it. The new and edited version is not really different from the original, there have just been a slight tweaking of some grammar errors (there are probably still some left, but hopefully less then before) and I've tried to add a bit more detail. I also realized had made Dumbledore seem hopelessly dim for not understanding what was going on, so I toned down the overheard conversation a bit and other such things.

**The Cry of a Dragon**  
Moondragon

No more dawning days  
Only whispers of darkened ways  
Forever falling tears  
Lands in the hands of somber fate

Evergrey: Harmless Wishes

--

The mood in the Great Hall was somber. Black draperies had been used to replace the house banners and the whole place seemed much less lively then it usually did. Even though the hall was filled with students there was just a low murmuring sound of voices that could be hear and it stopped instantly when Albus Dumbledore stood up.

"Dear students and teachers. We are gathered here today, not only to celebrate the downfall of Voldemort, but also to grieve the loss of one of the bravest people this world has ever seen. At the same time as he robbed the Dark Lord of his life he also ended his own. He knew the cost of this battle, but still he fought fearlessly. In the end, it was his sacrifice that saved us all."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, leaning against his chair. Never before has he felt closer to his true age then right now. It was indeed a sad thought to outlive ones pupils.

"Let us make a toast in the honour of Harry Potter, a hero in the truest sense of the word. May his memory live on in our hearts and his sacrifice be forever remembered," he said and raised his goblet respectfully into the air.

He looked out at the tables and couldn't help noticing the empty spaces that should have been filled with students. As he watched the students he noted that the reactions varied at the different houses. The Hufflepuffs had their goblets raised, some with tears in their eyes. The name 'Harry Potter' was muttered as a wave over the table. The Ravenclaws sat silently with their goblets raised above them, looking downcast and sad.

But none of them could compare to the faces of the Gryffindor's. A few had joined with the toasting while others were just staring of into air looking shocked, some could been seen with tears in their eyes or even openly crying. In the middle he saw Hermione sobbing violently, clinging onto Ron for comfort.

He sighed and, almost against his will, turned towards the Slytherin table. Most of them simply looked unfazed, only a few had expressions that could be interpreted as sorrow, while others were smirking. He sighed again and began to turn away when something unexpected suddenly caught his attention, or rather someone…

At the end of the Slytherin table sat a lone boy who looked as if his whole world had ended. Dumbledore examined the boy more closely. This wasn't a reaction he had expected. Even though Draco and Harry had seemed to settle on an uneasy truce during the last year they'd been far from friends, most of the time they simply ignored each other. Though there where a few times… He suddenly recalled a brief conversation he had overheard between them a couple of months ago.

_"I'm sorry, I just can't tomorrow. I've got Quidditch practice all day." _

_"So Quidditch is more important?" Draco answered sounding mildly irritated. _

_Harry's reply was muffled and unhearable. _

_Draco drew in a deep breath of air and slowly exhaled. "Yeah, I know, it's just…" He lowered his voice so that only Harry could hear him. _

_"Believe me, so am I," Harry said as he walked away._

The words in the exchange faded from memory, but they'd managed to leave Dumbledore slightly puzzled. At the time he hadn't thought much about it, but now... Could it be possible that Harry and Draco had been closer friends then anyone knew? But if that was true, why had they still been so cold towards each other in public? Whenever they saw each other in the halls after class they usually just kept walking, ignoring each other. Sometimes he'd seen them exchanges a short greeting, nothing more. But looking at Draco and the expression on his face he wondered what had really been going on.

He was probably just reading too much into it. After all, with all that had happened lately it was a wonder that he wasn't gong insane.

But still...

--

Raindrops were slowly running down the window in front of Dumbledore. Every night he would stand in his office and look out at the grounds of Hogwarts. But today the sight gave him no comfort. Harry Potter was dead. 'The Boy Who Lived' lived no more. He had given his life to save them all. With the ultimate self-sacrifice he had manage the impossible, to kill Voldemort. The Wizarding world would never be the same again and neither would the people close to Harry Potter. Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Hagrid, the entire Weasley family... The list went on forever, including himself. The lives that Harry had touched during his life were countless.

The funeral today had proved that. The place had been crowded with people from far and near coming to grieve the loss of one of the most important people in Wizarding history. Harry had been buried here at the grounds of Hogwarts, his only 'true' home.

He could still remember the shy little boy waiting to be sorted. A lonely boy who was famous for something he couldn't even remember. But that little boy had grown into a brave and wise young man. A person he was proud to know, not because he was 'The Boy Who Lived' but simply because of the person he was. He had an amazing talent to see the good in people, to trust others and to help those who needed it.

Dumbledore turned his eyes towards the burial place. It was a beautiful spot underneath the branches of a weeping willow. It was a place of silence and peacefulness. He briefly wondered who it was that had suggested the place, probably Ron and Hermione.

"Albus?" The quiet voice of Professor McGonagall cut into his train of thoughts.

He resisted the urge to sigh as he turned away from the window. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you at a time like this," she said sounding both weary and tired.

"Don't worry, just tell me what it is," he replied, not unkindly.

"It's the reporters. What should I do with them?" There had been a constant group of reporters at the school the past few days and the way she said 'reporters' clearly stated what the professor thought of them.

"Tell them that this evening is a time to grieve. They may return tomorrow if they want to."

"I shall inform them. Good night Albus." She made a small bow and turned to leave.

"One more thing since you're here. Do you know who was it that suggested the burial place?" he asked as an afterthought.

"The burial place? I think it was one of the Slytherins," she said, sounding as if she didn't quite believe what she was saying. "Actually I think it was Malfoy. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. It's such a lovely place. Good night Minerva."

He watched her leave feeling somewhat confused, which wasn't really a feeling he was accustomed to. Draco had suggested the place? Why would Draco care where Harry was buried? Even if they were closer friends then they let on, it shouldn't be so important to him. He looked back at the spot beneath the willow.

Then he remembered a sight he'd seen some weeks ago. There had been two people sitting beneath that tree, half hidden by the branches. They had been talking comfortably together, just the two of them. He only noticed it because it was a quite isolate area where there rarely came any students at all. When he thought about it he could recall several times he'd seen someone sitting by the tree.

There was something here that just didn't make sense to him. Was it Draco sitting by the tree those times? And if that was the case, why had he suggested it for the burial?

He was still missing a piece of the puzzle.

Just then a glimpse of silver-white caught his eyes. Someone was walking towards the burial place.

--

Draco fell to his knees on the muddy ground in front of the tombstone. He looked up at the inscription while tracking it with his right index finger.

_Harry James Potter _

_1980 - 1997 _

_He died in the battle to save us all. _

_May he always be remembered with love and respect._

He whispered the words quietly to himself as tears began to run down his face.

"Harry..."

His voice broke and he let out a hopeless cry. He leaned forward so that he could rest his head against the cold stone.

"Oh gods, you're dead... I can't believe it, you are really gone… dead." He broke down sobbing.

"I didn't really believe it until now. But you're gone. You're really gone." His whole body was shaking both from the cold and the emotions. The rain continued to fall around the boy, soaking him to the bone and most of his robe was covered in mud from the ground. But he noticed neither.

"Everyone thinks it's so great. You killed Voldemort. But didn't you realize the prize? Didn't you understand that it would kill you too?" He whispered pleadingly to the stone as if searching for an answer.

"You did, didn't you? You knew you'd get, but still you went ahead and did it anyway." For a moment he looked accusingly at the stone, almost wondering why it didn't answer him. But then he just reached forward and placed a shivering hand on top of it. Seeking comfort.

"Of course you did. You saw a way to save us, and then you did it. You managed to save us all by killing him. All except me..." He shook his head sadly. "You were the only one who could save me you know. Not by slaying Voldemort, not by being the hero, but with being you..." He abruptly stopped speaking, finding it impossible to continue. For a while he simply sat there gasping for breath.

"You could save me by simply being you. Your touch, you scent, your smile, your face..."

"...your love..." he added, barely making a sound.

He let his head fall forward, almost touching the ground, and wrapped his hands tightly around his own waist. Silent tears continued to run down his face in a never-ending flow.

When he finally looked up again his gaze was fixed on the stone in front of him and he spoke quietly with a raspy voice.

"But you did save me didn't you? You saved me from following my father, from the dark that threatened to drown me. You showed me a different way to live, one filled with hope… and your love..." His voice broke down to an unhearable whisper.

He let his hand touch the stone again in a gesture filled with affection, love and loss.

"I love you," he whispered to the silent tombstone. "Always and forever." He leant forward and pressed his lips gently to the stone placed there to mark the passing of Harry Potter.

--

As Dumbledore watched from his window high up in one of the towers he finally understood. He'd found the last piece of the puzzle.

They weren't friends.

They were lovers...

--

**Author's Note:** Quite angsty, even for me. I didn't mean to write so much of it from Dumbledore's view, just the announcement at the beginning. But once he was there, he refused to leave.

I really appreciate reviews… hint hint

Moondragon


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